


Experience Outranks Everything

by GirlwithCurls98



Series: The Misadventures of Maggie Marigold [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlwithCurls98/pseuds/GirlwithCurls98
Summary: Margaret "Maggie" Marigold is a halfling grave cleric, unwaveringly devoted to the Raven Queen. She learns that Fylo, one of her friends she met working for the guild of the Kindered Oblivion, has killed an entire village of people and has fled to the Feywild. This is a shock to the whole party, and they think Fylo could be controlled by something from the Feywild. Conflicted, Maggie goes to the Raven Queen temple for comfort and guidance.
Series: The Misadventures of Maggie Marigold [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923940
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	Experience Outranks Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this intially for myself & my D&D friends- I mentioned that Maggie would go to the temple to talk to the Raven Queen about the situation, but we didn't fully roleplay the scene- so I decided to write it out. 
> 
> Maggie is my character, the Raven Queen and the communion ritual are heavily influenced by Matthew Mercer's interpretation from Campaign 1 of Critical Role, though I have made the Raven Queen slightly more motherly during this interaction with one of her youngest clerics.

The blood never bothered her. Margaret Marigold had guided so many Believers* through their first encounter with the Raven Queen that she eventually lost count. She knew how the process could be too much to handle. No matter how devoted, it took most people the better part of an hour to gather their courage before they entered the communion pool, filled with blood given in offering. But beyond the physical sensations, meeting a goddess face-to-face could be emotionally overwhelming for anyone. As a result, many followers only communed once or twice before their eternal reunion with Her. 

Maggie spoke with the Matron constantly, wherever and whenever she could. She could speak with Her as casually as she did with her siblings; no topic was too small. But there were times when she needed the communion ritual to guide her when the path ahead was clouded by uncertainty. Though she could not name it, there was something comforting about standing before a divine being, even as a mere mortal. It made her perfectly aware of her fragility, how small she was in comparison but never insignificant in Her eyes. And though communion could be difficult, it had never been the blood that bothered her. 

In hindsight, perhaps that was due to how completely unprepared she’d been her first time; she hadn’t gotten the chance to be nervous. Her mentor, Keeper Solsora**, hadn’t given her any details- only that the day’s lesson would be unlike any she’d had yet at the Final Dawn temple. 

_ The middle aged dwarf linked their arms and walked from the library down to the first floor, to an ornate iron door she’d not yet discovered, despite her many months living there. On the outside, a simple lantern was affixed to the wall. Solsora reached up and lit the white candle before turning to Maggie with an intense expression.  _

__ _ “Close your eyes and I will guide you.” She said, amber eyes alight with excitement. “Don’t be afraid.”  _

And she hadn’t been. Not when Solsora led her blindly into the room and guided her steps until she stood just at the edge of the pool. Not when she felt her mentor’s hands rest on her shoulders before she shoved Maggie into the pool. Not when she felt the blood soaking her clothes, filling her mouth, icy cold and thick. She hadn’t been afraid even when her lungs started to burn and she couldn’t find her way to the top. She hadn’t been afraid, emerging from her first encounter laughing and crying from sheer joy. 

But that was then. And this was now. Now, Maggie sat at the edge of the communion pool and she was frightened. 

Fylo, her friend, her teammate… had killed. By itself it wasn’t a problem, it was the manner in which he had killed: without purpose, on impulse, fueled by emotion and selfish desire. That wasn’t Fylo. But if his adoptive mother was to be believed, he wasn’t even aware of what he’d done. He had no memory of it and was unable to overcome the dark force that had compelled him to do it in the first place.

Maggie had killed. Which by itself wasn’t something to be proud of, it was the manner in which she killed. She remembered every name, every face, every detail of the deaths she caused. And she had never ever  _ ever _ killed a child. 

But Fylo, Fylo was a good person! Or… he was becoming a good person. She’d thought that he was good. She was even studying to try and understand his fondness for necromancy, despite how wicked and despicable she knew that magic to be. Maggie fumbled for the raven pendant he’d given her, only to remember she’d left the necklace back at the guildhouse. She sighed, getting to her feet. There wasn’t much time before she’d have to return to the others at the guild. There was no point in stalling, she knew she had to ask the question- no matter how afraid she was of what the answer might be. 

Since that first day, Maggie had never been able to walk down the steps into the pool. It didn’t feel right: cold stone under her bare feet, the blood rising higher and higher until she was fully submerged. Instead, Maggie drew a deep breath, took a few steps back, and jumped into the pool with a dull splash. Her simple linen smallclothes stuck to her skin, straw blonde hair fanning out as she slowly began to drown in the thick crimson. 

She hesitated a moment, then opened her mouth and released that last breath, allowing the blood to fill her lungs. This was the part that bothered her. It never got any easier: the numbing cold, the sharp pain, the momentary animalistic panic that begged her to fight her way to the surface. She flailed, searching for anything to hold onto, but there was nothing. Only darkness. She continued to sink. 

She squeezed her eyes shut as her lungs started to seize, screaming for air. It was almost too much, almost enough to make her beg for relief, but it was never bad enough to override the faith she valued above all else. 

In that moment, as she focused on the depth of her devotion, the pain stopped. She stopped sinking. Relieved, Maggie grinned, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them as the icy liquid turned warm. It reminded her of Charlie and Josie, how the triplets would take turns sleeping in the center of their big bed; it was impossible to have bad dreams when you were held so tightly. 

A few moments later, she landed softly on a surface that was hard as stone, but smooth like glass. Maggie uncurled, settling onto her knees. She folded her hands in her lap and sat back onto her heels. Only then did she open her eyes, her grin widening into the biggest smile as she looked up at the Raven Queen. Seeing Her, being held up in the Matron’s hand- the happiness broke through the dread clutching her and she knew things would be okay. 

“Hello, Maggie Marigold. Many months have passed since the last time we spoke this way. Something is troubling you?” 

The voice was soft and lightly accented, but otherwise as emotionless as the bone white mask that seemed to look straight through her. 

“Yes, my Lady. My friend, he’s done something terrible, something I cannot comprehend. But I’m sure it wasn’t him, he’s under some sort of compulsion. And we’re going to the Feywild to bring him back, and-. And-d I’m afraid.” 

“This friend of yours, what has he done that scares you so much?” 

Maggie dropped her eyes and grimaced. She wanted to argue that she wasn’t afraid of Fylo, only of what they would face in the Feywild. But the Matron was ever perspective, and yes, she was afraid of him. 

“He’s killed. Innocents, children, people who didn’t deserve to die. I don’t believe it was really him, it had to be whatever attached this darkness to him. But I am afraid of him, of what will happen if we bring him back from the Feywild and that thing still holds him. What if he cannot be helped?” 

She was quickly becoming frantic, wringing her hands as she struggled to give voice to her anxieties, like that would make them real. 

“What if I cannot help him?!” She cried, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes as if she could block out reality that way. 

“Hush, my daughter.” 

The Raven Queen’s voice boomed throughout the space, putting the full force of Her divinity behind every syllable. Maggie took a breath and looked up, but the white mask was gone. She looked down and the hand was gone, leaving her kneeling on the stone floor of the pool. Confused, she turned, and nearly jumped out of her skin. There, but a few feet away, the Matron stood. 

Her form had shifted. The goddess was now no larger than a tall human, but no one could mistake Her for a mortal as she drifted over to the halfling and sat across from her. The long swaths of Her dark dress pooled around them as they settled into the silence. A pale hand reached out, the long and slender fingers wrapping around Maggie’s folded hands. Her loyal cleric exhaled heavily, tension loosening its grip but not letting go. 

“I’m sorry, my Lady.” 

“Do not apologize for fear, Maggie Marigold. I have never demanded perfection before and I do not now. All I ask is that you trust. And you do trust, otherwise we could not meet this way.” 

Maggie nodded, returning the tight grip on her hands, an anchor point of faith. 

“My charge is to maintain the thread of fate. I guide each soul to its final resting place, but only when it is their time. You know this to be true.” 

“Yes, my Lady. And our charge is to help stop those who would cheat death, or bring back those who are killed before it is their time.” 

“Correct. So if your friend has done as you said and I did not intervene, nor did another on My behalf, then their deaths were destined for that moment.” 

Maggie shut her eyes and turned her head away. 

“Even the children?” 

She knew the answer. She knew the teachings and she cursed the weakness in her voice, the tremble in her hands. But she had to ask. 

“Your compassion and your affection for the youngest among us is understandable. But my words have not changed. You know the truth, my daughter. Tell me. Answer the question yourself.” 

Maggie frowned, but took a breath and looked back up to meet the goddess’ gaze. 

“Death is. Not good, not evil. Those are mortal judgements. If destined, if respected- death simply is.” 

Though her conviction was strong and passion evident, she slumped forward when she finished speaking. 

This was still the hardest lesson. She was comfortable with death and almost as comfortable with taking a life. But understanding that someone could take the life of a child, and accepting that their death might be destined in that moment… she was still struggling. The only thing that helped was knowing that they were ultimately safe in the Matron’s care. 

“Good. Do not doubt your abilities, you are more than capable of accomplishing this task. Faith is strengthened by experience, of which you still have very little. The Kindered Oblivion is helping, but there is still much for you to learn.” 

Maggie nodded, a bit of confidence returning as she trusted the truth of the Raven Queen’s words. It was one thing to believe within the shelter of the Temple. It was another thing entirely to believe in the larger world, not knowing in what moment her own death would be destined. 

“Yes, my Lady. I trust your guidance.” 

“Go and find your friend. Like the very nature of the Feywild, I sense there is more to this problem than meets the eye. But you must not let your fear stop you from finding the truth.” She let go of the smaller hands, proud of how Her cleric was approaching this latest test. 

Maggie smiled, determination rising as she sat up a little straighter. “I will, my Lady. I’ll help him, and I’ll get to the bottom of this. Even if their deaths were destined, something else isn’t adding up.” 

The Raven Queen’s mask, normally expressionless, formed a soft smile. She reached forward, placing a warm hand on either side of the young girl’s face. The halfling closed her eyes as the Matron kissed her forehead and whispered:

“Be at peace, Maggie Marigold. My wings are with you.” 

And then there was blood, the taste of iron in her mouth as Maggie kicked and flailed and burst through the surface of the communion pool, gasping for breath. As the blood streamed down her face and into her eyes, she was able to make out an acolyte rushing across the room, offering her a hand up. 

Maggie clasped the boy’s hand tightly as she pushed herself up with the other. He helped her the rest of the way, expression panicked as she continued to spit blood out of her mouth. She shivered, suddenly freezing as the dark red liquid dripped off the ends of her hair, sticking to her smallclothes and skin. The young acolyte grabbed a blanket she’d left near the pool and placed it around her shoulders before sitting down next to her, unsure of how to help. 

“I’m sorry.” She managed between coughs. “I thought I lit the candle outside. Were you waiting long?” 

The boy, an elf she hadn’t met before and clearly a new student judging by his robes, shook his head. “No, the candle’s lit. I- I wasn’t waiting,I wanted to see… well, I-” 

“You wanted to see someone come out.” 

He hung his head, cheeks flushed, nodding. Maggie smiled softly, wiping the blood from her hands before setting one on the boy’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay to be scared. But trust me, experience strengthens faith. We can talk to Her whenever we want, but sometimes,” she gestured to the surface of the pool, now still, “It helps to see up close, to know just how dearly She holds all within Her sight.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

She examined his face as she stood to leave, collecting her clothes and armor. Even for an elf, he was very young, likely not living in-Temple yet. Still, Maggie would not lie to him. 

“Yes, but many things that hurt are still worth having. And it gets easier, I promise. Now, go on.” She tightened the blanket around her shoulders like it were her cloak. “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

With a smile, Maggie slipped out of the chamber, head clear, and ready to rush back to the guildhouse. She didn’t want to keep her friends waiting, either. Any of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote up a temple heirarchy for my interpretation of the Raven Queen's clergy/faith. 
> 
> *Believers- anyone who follows the Raven Queen  
> **Keepers- a subset of the clergy, responsible for maintaining temple records, histories, and the doctrine of the Raven Queen. 
> 
> I have never posted anything like this here, this is completely original and I hope y'all like it. Comments about the fic give me life, or even just general comments about your own D&D games, I'd love to hear about them.


End file.
